Pain.
It pulsed through Lyra's veins like molten fire, twisting through every nerve ending. She gasped, clawing at the forest floor as her blood burned beneath her skin. Her neck throbbed where he'd bitten her — no, marked her — and the pain wasn't fading.
It was spreading.
"Wh–what did you do to me?" she choked, her voice raw and trembling.
The man with golden eyes stood above her, his expression unreadable. He didn't answer right away. The shadows clung to him like loyal dogs, wrapping around his shoulders, his boots, his soul.
"I saved your life," he said at last.
"By marking me?" she spat, trying to sit up — but her limbs wouldn't obey. Her body felt… foreign. Weak, yet humming with an energy that wasn't hers. "You had no right—!"
"You were dying," he cut in, sharp and cold. "That rejection would've shattered your soul. You were already bleeding from the inside."
She froze.
"How do you know that?" she whispered.
His gaze didn't soften. "Because I've seen it happen. Wolves rejected during the Moonblood Trials… they don't survive for long. Not without a bond to anchor them."
Lyra's heart pounded. "Then you should've left me to die."
Something flickered in his eyes — not guilt. Something darker. Deeper.
"I tried," he said quietly. "But my wolf had other ideas."
He stepped closer. She shrank back, but there was nowhere to run — the bond had tied her to him, and her body already knew it. Every inch of her ached with confusion, heat, and a pull she didn't want.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered.
He crouched beside her, voice low and firm. "The bond is setting. You're feeling the burn of the mark — the connection between our souls syncing. It will pass."
"Take it back."
"I can't."
"Then break it!"
His jaw clenched. "It doesn't work like that."
Lyra stared at him, heart racing. She wanted to hate him. She did hate him. And yet…
There was something terrifyingly familiar in his scent. Something that made her want to curl into his warmth even as her mind screamed to run.
"What are you?" she asked.
He rose, towering above her again. "The enemy."
He extended a hand.
She didn't take it.
"Touch me and I'll rip your throat out," she hissed.
That earned her a ghost of a smirk. "Feisty little wolf. You haven't even shifted yet, and already you think you can threaten me?"
"I'd rather die than belong to someone like you."
He leaned down, his face inches from hers.
"Too late," he murmured. "You're already mine."
And then she collapsed.
The pain, the cold, the exhaustion from the Trials — it all crashed down on her like a wave. Her vision blurred, blackness clawing at the edges.
The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was the stranger's voice.
"Take her back to Nightfang. Bind her. She is not to be touched… by anyone but me."
Lyra floated somewhere between sleep and nightmare.
There were flashes.
Hands gripping her arms.
Leather reins biting into her skin.
The jolt of a horse beneath her, the sway of movement, the crack of branches as they rode deeper into unknown lands. The scent of pine, ash, and blood wrapped around her like a shroud. She wanted to scream, to fight — but the bond had weakened her. Her soul thrashed like a bird in a cage.
At one point, she opened her eyes.
She saw him riding beside her. Kael. His name came unspoken to her mind, though he had not yet spoken it.
Golden eyes. Silver-black armor. Unflinching.
Unreachable.
And hers — by bond, not by choice.
She woke again to stone.
Cold. Damp. The scent of iron in the air.
She groaned as her eyes fluttered open, only to realize her wrists were shackled, chained to an iron ring bolted into the wall. Panic clawed at her chest as she yanked, the metal digging into her skin.
Where was she?
A cell. No windows. Just firelight dancing from a single torch in the corner.
Her mark throbbed beneath the bandage at her neck — a deep, primal ache she couldn't ignore. Her body felt like it wasn't hers. Her blood was hot. Her skin hypersensitive.
"Easy."
His voice again.
She whipped her head toward the doorway — and there he was.
Kael stood just beyond the bars, arms crossed, watching her like a predator examining its prey. There was no apology in his gaze. Only certainty.
"Let me go," she hissed.
"You belong to Nightfang now," he said calmly. "And to me."
"I don't care who you are. You took something from me—"
"I gave you something," he interrupted. "Your life."
"I didn't ask for it!"
He stepped inside, the cell door creaking open. He didn't need to lock it — she wasn't strong enough to escape. Not yet.
"You'd rather be dead?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Yes!" she shouted. "If it meant I was free."
For a heartbeat, something flickered in his gaze. Hurt? Annoyance? No — it was deeper than that. Something buried beneath centuries of ice.
But it was gone as fast as it came.
He crouched in front of her. "You'll understand soon," he said. "The bond chose you for a reason."
"I don't want your bond. I want my own wolf. My own mate. Not... this." Her voice cracked. "Not you."
Kael reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. She flinched, but the bond betrayed her — her skin tingled where he touched her, her heartbeat stuttered.
He leaned in, lips near her ear, voice low.
"You'll hate me for a while," he murmured. "But you'll crave me sooner than you think."
She trembled — not from fear, but from the horrifying truth that some part of her already did.
Then he stood, his expression unreadable once again. "You'll be cleaned, dressed, and taken to Lupis Academy tomorrow."
She blinked. "What?"
"You'll train. Learn control. Learn submission."
"I'll never submit to you."
He tilted his head, golden eyes glowing in the torchlight.
"You already have."
He left her there, stunned, shaking, heart torn between fury and something far more dangerous.